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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25890724">Pillion</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka'>yeaka</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Vignette</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:02:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>720</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25890724</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A quiet end to a day.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hugh Culber/Paul Stamets</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Pillion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He’s stuck in sickbay forty minutes overtime, which isn’t, relatively speaking, <i>terrible</i>—he’s been caught in the swell of destruction before and forced to pull double, even triple shifts. The bridge hasn’t given them any new crises as of late, and a few extra lesions from a space-walk gone wrong are all that keep him behind. He wastes an extra ten minutes giving Pollard redundant instructions, and then gets caught in the bristling eddies of <i>Discovery’s</i> corridors, and by the time he’s stepping through his own doors, he’s ready to collapse. Hopefully on top of Paul. As Engineering’s nowhere near as complicated as the medical needs of the crew, Paul really should be back already, but Hugh isn’t surprised that he isn’t. </p><p>Hugh meanders through their quarters anyway, checking the washroom and even closet as though Paul’s going to pop out from under the bed. It’s just wishful thinking. In general, Hugh’s passionate about his job. But sometimes the only thing that gets him through the day is knowing he has a gorgeous partner to come home to, and it grates at him they don’t really have a <i>home</i> here and they spend almost ever waking minute apart. While he’s stripping out of his uniform, all he can think of is watching <i>Paul</i> strip down—and doesn’t Paul look good in those plain maroon shirts they all get that stretch so nicely across his bigger frame. </p><p>Down to that casual attire, Hugh flops onto a mattress. One of the two that could belong to either. It’d be nice if they just had one big cot, but starships don’t work like that. Maybe he should just be grateful they’re allowed to share a room at all. </p><p>He has long enough to stew in those thoughts. By the time the doors whisk open again, Hugh’s nearly fallen asleep sitting up. He’s leaning back against the bulkhead, letting it dig into his spine, because that’s just one more ache to add to the dozen he’s garnered through the day. He sits up a fraction straighter at seeing Paul, ready to unload all his complaints onto someone willing to listen. </p><p>Then he sees the slump of Paul’s shoulders and the drag in his step, and Hugh holds his tongue. It won’t do either of them any good. Paul looks more wrecked than he does, and it makes it difficult to complain that Paul’s late. <i>Again.</i></p><p>Paul throws Hugh a nod as he tugs open his collar, marching straight for the washroom, but Hugh lifts an arm and motions forward. Paul stops mid-step. They can brush their teeth later. It feels like Hugh’s been waiting for hours—since the last time they touched—and he can’t wait even a minute longer. Paul hesitates, then changes direction. He’s climbing onto the bed a second later, muttering, “You won’t believe the day I had.”</p><p>Hugh snorts. He can guess. When the captain’s stressed, they all feel it, probably more than they should. Despite a pleasantly low explosion count for <i>Discovery’s</i> turbulent track record, tension’s definitely been in the air. But Hugh finds it a tad easier to relax when Paul’s sitting next to him. Paul lets out a sigh that visibly runs through his whole body. </p><p>Hugh shifts his legs and pats his thigh, deciding, “Lie down, hon.”</p><p>Paul closes his eyes and tilts his head like he’s going to protest, but then he sighs and lowers down, laying his head on Hugh’s lap and squirming into place. Hugh waits until Paul settles before dropping a hand into his golden hair and petting softly back through it. Paul’s pale lashes flutter against his cheeks, his breath hitching. He’s clearly wound too tight, but he’s still handsome when he’s difficult. Absurdly handsome. And he’s all <i>Hugh’s</i>.</p><p>There’s some solace in that. It’s hard to mope when such a beautiful man’s stretched across him. As a warm smile slowly dons on Paul, Hugh can’t help teasing, “Shall I hum some opera for you...?”</p><p>Eyes closed, Paul’s grin grows wide, and he volleys, “Don’t you dare.” There’s something so <i>wonderful</i> about that big smile of his—it’s hard-won, but glorious. </p><p>Hugh leans down to peck Paul’s forehead. He figures he’ll take his turn griping tomorrow, and in the meantime, he just enjoys the best thing that ever happened to him.</p>
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